


The Guard's Code of Conduct

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: Even Shadows Have Stories [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Camelot's Guards are Smarter Than You Think, Gen, POV Outsider, The Purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 21:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7861666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Knight's Code is all well and good for the fancy folk, but the guards prefer something a bit more plainspoken. It does an admirable job of keeping them honorable.</p>
<p>Then the Purge comes, and honor suddenly gets a lot more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guard's Code of Conduct

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Merlin.

The Guard's Code used to be to the common people what the Knight's Code was to the nobility. The full thing was written up somewhere in fancy script and courtly language that the guards had laughed over, but the essence of it, the heart - Every boy could recite that to you. Every guard made it as much a part of themselves as their own bones.

Used to be.

 

_For every guard shall be these things: Loyal to the king,_

In King Constans day, the king had been a distant figure. That had made it easier in some ways. It was easier to be loyal to an ideal than to a man.

His son, Uther, though, he had been a prince to inspire passion and sacrificial loyalty. It was a point of pride to the guard that when King Constans died and the prince's uncle challenged him for the throne and civil war broke out that every last guard remained faithful.

It was easy those first few years. Easy when Stephen's spell caught the knife before it could hit the king and he was thanked warmly and with a bag of gold. Easy when the king himself spoke over the three they'd lost when Lot had sent assassins. Easy when they stood watchful outside Ygraine's door and she greeted them with a smile that could melt stone.

But that was before.

And no true guard ever had to ask, "Before what?"

 

_Vigilant in all his magic, mind, and might,_

That was how it had read. Originally.

Then Arthur was born.

It wasn't often that the king interfered with the details of how Captain Donovan's men were posted, but Captain Donovan was just relieved that the man had finally emerged from his office. If the king wanted to specify which men were to be on duty that night, he wasn't going to complain.

Samuel was a new father and the schedule shift meant he was pulling a double shift outside the vault door. It was taking all his stubborn willpower just to keep his eyes open. He was in no condition to notice that his fellow guard was one of the new men King Uther had hired recently and not a magic user as regulations demanded.

Vick met Marcus in the jail. He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Since when do you have magic?"

"Funny. I was about to ask the same of you."

"What are we supposed to do if a sorcerer breaks in?" Vick demanded.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "The cells are empty, mate. Why would anyone break in?"

"Maybe they'll be heading for the vault and get lost. Then what?"

Marcus grinned. "Pretend we don't see them?"

Vick snorted. "Says the man who cracked a chair over a wraith's head to hold it off until a dragonlord could show up."

Marcus clapped him on the back. "See? We'll be fine. We can tell Captain Donovan when we go off duty. It's probably just a rotation error."

Frederick, though. The men joked that he had seer blood in him. When Frederick got to his post and saw that it wasn't a mage standing there, he turned and took off running for the barracks.

The barracks had been made of stone until the earthquake that had struck on the day of Arthur's birth. In the month since, they had thrown up a wooden one with the help of sorcery until they could get the necessary stone.

That night, though, Frederick couldn't see the wood for the flames. He ran for water and started to shout at the new guards he saw standing outside to start a bucket chain.

One shook his head and stepped in front of him. "We're just to stop it from spreading. Order of the king."

"They're still alive in there!" Frederick yelled. "We can still save them!"

"Order of the king," he said stubbornly. Frederick shoved past him. He only got a few steps before something hit him in the back.

The remaining guards were gathered in the morning. They were told the barracks had burned with seventy guards, including Captain Donovan, inside. They were told that only sorcery could have ensured that not one of the men woke up and escaped. Only sorcery could have made it burn so quickly. They would have the crown's full support in tracking down and punishing the perpetrator.

Merrick looked through the ashes before they were quite cool and reflected on the odd fact that every last magic user in the guard had been inside. His hands hovered reverently over the bones, and he reflected on how odd it was that sleeping men had congregated near the windows and doors. He volunteered to carry Frederick's body to the pyre and reflected on the fact that of all the ways a magic user could use to kill a man, they had chosen a knife in the back.

He reflected on the fact that oil was a quite effective accelerant and that it didn't take magic to block a door.

Later, he reflected on the fact that Andrews had been inside and that Frederick had never been the sort of man who was able to ignore his brother when he needed help, even for an order of the king.

But by that time the fear and the paranoia were so strong that even in his own head, he only dared think it very, very quietly.

 

_Ready and willing to defend his own,_

Of all the lines in the code, that one should have been the easiest to understand. It meant that when Lot's men invaded, if a fellow guard was on the ground, you stepped in to defend him, even if you only had a broken stick of wood. It meant you kept your mouth shut when Captain Donovan asked who, exactly, had put the dead spider from the Caves of Balor on his pillow. It meant that when young William died, they all stepped in to provide for his children.

But Captain Donovan was dead now, and that was before.

What was defending their own? Was it hunting down sorcerers in the name of finding the one who had killed their brothers?

Even if one of them was dead Andrews' wife?

Was it quietly telling a dead man's parents to spread the word that those like them might want to leave the city until things calmed down?

Even if the mother suspected what had happened and swore someday she'd kill the king?

John didn't know. He suspected most of the others didn't either.

 

_Eager to protect the innocent and see the guilty brought to justice,_

Guilty, Hawthorne mouthed, guilty.

He wasn't the smartest man in the guard, he knew that. He'd thought he'd known what guilty and innocent meant, though.

Coren tried to explain it to him. "See, magic's got too uncontrolled. The king has to regulate it or there'll be chaos."

"Well, there've always been some problems," Hawthorne allowed. You couldn't be in the guard for any length of time and not know that.

"So if someone breaks the regulations, they're breaking the law, and that's wrong."

"That's true," Hawthorne admitted.

"And that couple had broken the law, so they were guilty, and Halig brought them in, so he's a good law abiding citizen."

Hawthorne frowned. "He hit the woman."

"Yes, but she was guilty, so that's alright."

"You don't hit prisoners," Hawthorne insisted. "Captain Donovan was always very clear on that."

Coren shifted uncomfortably. "Captain Thomas understands that in these difficult times, extraordinary measures are sometimes necessary."

"Well, what about Aredian then?" Hawthorne said. "You can't tell me his methods are alright."

"Sometimes they're necessary. Remember, it's alright if they're guilty. It's part of their punishment. Justice."

"Yes, but I thought his methods were so that they would answer his questions."

"Well, yes . . . "

"So how does he know if they're guilty or not?"

"They confess."

"But only after he's already done it. What if they don't confess?"

Coren was looking more and more uncomfortable. Hawthorne pushed on. "They haven't even had a trial yet."

"The king says it's all right," Coren said.

Hawthorne frowned. "I thought what he said was that if Sir Ector didn't stop challenging him he'd have him convicted of sympathizing with lawbreakers."

"Same thing."

"And Lord Balinor told me that the only thing the boy had done was use healing magic - "

Coren was glad to be back on safer ground. "But he's untrained, see? So it's dangerous. Healing magic's dangerous anyway."

Hawthorne's frown deepened. "How's healing magic dangerous?"

"Got us here, didn't it?"

Both men jumped and turned to see that Marcus had walked up behind them.

"Don't talk like that," Coren hissed.

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "It's what the dragonlords told the High Priestesses when the delegation came yesterday." He sighed. "At least they won't let the king go too far."

"The dragonlords are out of favor," Coren said darkly. "And we all know what that means."

They all looked towards the gate that recently disfavored nobles had been leaving - or fleeing - through.

Hawthorne wasn't the kind of man to think much of it, but Marcus would later think it was bitterly ironic that just as they turned to look, a kitchen fire raged out of control and the street filled with smoke.

 

_Resolute even in unpleasant duties,_

That, Will thought, pretty much summed up the past few years.

Although unpleasant was a rather mild word for it, really.

"Unpleasant" didn't really cover bringing in people you knew that had been accused of breaking the laws on magic and watching them die. "Unpleasant" didn't really cover leading prisoners down to Aredian in magic controlling chains that burned their skin.

"Unpleasant" didn't really cover digging a large, shallow grave for the bones of the burned outside of Camelot's walls, but someone had to do it, and at least by volunteering he could be sure that the person doing it was respectful and offered up a prayer.

He could leave. Should leave, maybe. A lot of the best men had left early on.

But he had a family to feed and leaving now might be noticed. Might make King Uther think he was expressing dissent.

Might put a target on all of their chests.

Digging a grave for the bones was unpleasant. It was better than Vick's job, though. He was digging a deeper one for those who had suffered from other executions. It was a punishment detail for mouthing off to the captain.

The worst part for Vick wasn't the back breaking work or the rotting corpses in general, Will figured.

He wasn't sure whether the worst part was the corpses with blue lips that were so much smaller than all the others or that one of the larger corpses was Marcus. Vick and Marcus had been friends as close as brothers.

Will didn't blame Marcus for picking up an enchanted sword to fight the beast the High Priestesses had sent. He would have done the same.

Those new guards didn't see it that way, though. They were here for the money, or because they hated magic, or because they got some sort of sick enjoyment out of all this.

There were other new ones too, he supposed. Idealistic boys taking advantage of the constant need for new men to join up.

No one stayed idealistic for long in this job.

Not many good men left now. Just the desperate, the cowardly - he stabbed the dirt with his shovel at that one - the greedy, the stupid, and a few last men of honor trying desperately to do some good.

A roar split the sky. He glanced up, hand already going for his sword.

"Vick! Take cover!"

A dragon, one of the few not killed when the flocks they were allowed to feed on started being seeded with poisoned offerings, was diving towards the city, flames spewing from its mouth.

Also on Will's list of "unpleasant" things: fighting things that killed in horrible ways and that were about as afraid of him as he was of an ant.

 

_Resolute both in ordinary duty and danger,_

The original line had been jokingly changed to "both in boredom and danger" by the guards. Ceydon had heard the joke first from Evan when he joined up. It was appropriate enough. A guard's life was a lot of standing around spiced with occasional instances of intense excitement.

Or it had been. Then for a while, it had been a pretty near constant mix of desperation mixed in with near constant magical attacks that had cut through their numbers like a scythe through grain.

Now . . . Now, honestly, there had been so much fear, grief, and rage for so long that he just couldn't keep it going any longer. He thought he might have reached the limit of excitement his body could feel for one lifetime. He caught himself going through the motions of his life and not feeling anything other than numb.

Callous, he supposed some would say, but he wasn't cracking jokes like some guards were. He wasn't indulging in the black humor that kept some of the men sane. He didn't see the prisoners as animals or monsters, he just - These days, he had a hard time feeling anything.

Even when he was being attacked.

There was a witch coming towards his position by a door. He wasn't sure what he was guarding. He'd heard the bell ringing an hour ago, looked around and realized he was apparently on duty and had been for a while. The captain had nodded at him as he'd walked by, so he supposed this was where he was supposed to be. He just didn't remember getting here.

Whatever it was he was guarding, apparently the witch wanted to get to it. Or maybe she was being chased and just wanted to get away. All he knew was that her eyes were gold, she was charging him, and he should probably draw his sword.

He just . . . Couldn't be bothered. It didn't seem important.

She shouted something. There were lights and noise - He didn't quite catch what was going on, but he supposed it could be considered distracting. He still noticed the witch as she shoved past him, but he could see how someone might not. It was a good effort on her part.

He didn't stop her. He probably should have. For all he knew, this was the king's door.

But she hadn't killed him. That was nice of her.

He went back to staring at the wall.

 

_Determined to put forth their best effort in every area,_

"Obfuscating incompetence," Jaron explained to the new recruit as he settled in on a crate in the tunnel to the dragon's cave and pulled out a pair of dice. "If you have a reputation for not being able to do something, they won't think you let the person go on purpose."

"What do the other men do?" Aaron asked, wide eyed.

"These days? Whatever helps them sleep at night."

"Won't that get you fired?"

"In this guard? Not likely."

 

_And committed to at all times serving Camelot to the best of their ability._

Gaheris always knew that was the most important part of the code. Whatever else failed, whatever else had to be abandoned, that line had to be upheld. When the king was mad, your brothers in arms were traitors, and guilt and innocence were lost in a haze, when all else failed, serve Camelot.

You couldn't do that by believing what you were told. You had to keep your eyes and ears open. You had to be observant, and even more importantly, you had to know what to do with what you knew. He'd earned several commendations for it.

He was good. He knew he was good. So when an old man who looked suspiciously like a fugitive from a few years back that he and Luke had most certainly not let into the dungeons walked out and claimed otherwise, he shot a look at Luke that meant, You have got to be kidding me.

He knew those eyes, though. Of course he did, so he stood aside and let Merlin pass.

"He needs to be better at this," Lukas grumbled. "He's making us look bad."

"No one's as good as they used to be," Gaheris pointed out. "The sorcerers can't train their apprentices properly, we can't fight them like we used to, we don't have magic, the other kingdoms don't either, it evens out."

"We don't have _much_ magic," Lukas corrected.

"Well, yes," Gaheris admitted, grinning. "But the rest is true. Even if we weren't here to see it for ourselves twenty years ago, that we've all declined since then just makes sense. We lost a lot in the Purge."

"You've been listening to Merrick again."

"Kinda have to, mate, seeing as I'm courting his daughter and all."

When the warning bell rang, Gaheris hit his head against the wall. "You were right. He needs to get better at this."

Lukas had mellowed after eating the dinner the Irene brought them and had switched sides. "You go sneaking through the castle then, if it's so easy."

"I'm good, thanks. I like my head right where it is."

Merlin was considerate enough to be back in his cell by the time they checked in the morning. Technically they should have gone off duty by now, but they'd hung around after their relief came just to see how it would all resolve itself.

King Arthur, now miraculously recovered, gave the order for Merlin to be released.

"Does this happen a lot?" one of the guards that had relieved them asked.

Gaheris shot him an amused look. "You're new, aren't you?"

Merlin gave a little wave and darted up the stairs. Not quite as exuberant as he would have been a few years ago, but still cheerful in his relief over the king's recovery.

Gaheris saluted his retreating back. Merlin might not be an official part of the guard, but he was one of theirs all the same.

By magic, mind, or might, they served Camelot.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [To Guard a Dream of Long Ago](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9350489) by [DancingInTheStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheStorm/pseuds/DancingInTheStorm)




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